The Point of No Return
by Pink Alpaca
Summary: Erik has lived in loathing of his parents ever since that day they sold him away to the gypsies...but what will happen when he has a chance to take revenge on them? Erik will find his vengeance through their adopted daughter; Isabelle. However, Isabelle is not as perfect as everyone seems to think, Erik may discover that sometimes beauty is only skin deep...
1. A New Beginning

_Hey everyone! This is my second Phantom of the Opera fic, and I am currently simultaneously writing this story as well as my other Phantom of the Opera fic, which is called 'Forever'. If you wanted to check it out that would be awesome! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this first chap... _

* * *

Isabelle was sitting at her vanity, brushing her long, black hair, and wondering what tomorrow held for her. For years she had begged her mother to let her train at the Opera house, and tomorrow would finally be the day all of her dreams came true. Since she was only seven, Isabelle had been learning ballet with her private teacher, and now she would have the chance to put those skills on display at the opera! She imagined how great her life would be when she arrived at the Opera Populaire -dancing, singing, extravagent costumes, new friends, endless parties, sleepless nights- after living all seventeen of her years confined to her parent's country estate, she could finally spread her wings and leave the nest.

"Isabelle, dear"

Isabelle turned to her doorway to see her mother and father standing there looking as if something was worrying them.

Her mother walked into her room and sat down beside her. "There is something your father and I have been meaning to tell you, and now that you are seventeen, we agree that you are ready to hear it"

"What?" Isabelle asked worriedly.

Her mother looked up to her father as if asking for support. Sighing, Isabelle's father took her hand, "Isabelle" he cleared his throat before adding, "you are adopted"

Isabelle's face fell and she dropped her father's hand, she began to cry.

"Oh darling, it's alright, really, we love you and the fact that you're adopted won't change that." her mother said softly in an attempt to comfort her daughter.

Isabelle couldn't believe they had kept this from her, her tears turned from tears of sadness to tears of hatred. "How could you keep this from me for seventeen years?" she demanded standing up angrily.

"We did it for your own good" her mother insisted in that calm tone that was driving Isabelle mad. _How could her mother act so calm while admitting to her daughter that she had been lying to her all of her life!_

"No you didn't! You did it because you were scared for yourself! You were scared of how I would take it! Well guess what? Now that you've waited seventeen years to tell me the day before I leave, I am _not_ going to take it well!" Isabelle screamed.

Her father stood up, gently taking her by the arm, "calm down Isabelle"

Isabelle ripped away from her father's grasp before bursting into tears again, "Don't tell me to calm down, I trusted you!" she screamed before running out of the room.

"Come back here!" Her father ordered, but Isabelle didn't care. She kept running until she was outside, frantically looking around she made the quick decision to jump bare back on her horse.

"C'mon Lily, let's get out of here" she mumbled to the horse, before they took off. Isabelle had no idea where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get as far away from her 'parents' as possible. She never wanted to see them again, she never wanted to see that house again. They weren't even her real parents, which also meant that somewhere out there, her birth parents had disowned her.

Without even meaning too, Isabelle realized she and Lily had rode all the way to the heart of Paris. _Well_, Isabelle thought to herself staring up at the looming opera house in front of her, _I_ _was supposed to come here tomorrow anyway, might as well see if they'll take me early._

Tying up her horse, she hesitantly pulled at the door handle, when it came open she peered in. As soon as she got her first glimpse in the opera house, Isabelle forgot all about her adoption and her eyes lit up with excitement. she closed the door behind her, it was absolutely magnificent! There was a grand chandelier hanging above the foyer, and the room seemed to practically shine. Isabelle felt so tiny standing alone in the middle of the huge room.

"Mademoiselle, can I help you?" a voice came from behind her.

Isabelle turned her head to see a wise looking woman poised at the top of the grand staircase, "Hello madame, my name is Isabelle Destler, I was supposed to come here tomorrow to train in the ballet academy but I came a bit early..."

A warm smile broke out on the woman's face as she descended down the stairs, "Well Miss Destler, welcome to the Opera Populaire. My name is Madame Giry, I am the head ballet mistress here. I would be happy to show you to the dorms"

Isabelle smiled eagerly as Madame Giry led her down the winding halls of the opera house. They stopped at a long room with multiple beds lining the walls. "Do you have any luggage?" Madame Giry asked in confusion.

Isabelle's smile melted as she remembered why she was here a day early, "No, I, uh didn't get the chance to pack"

Madame Giry knew something suspicious was going on with Isabelle, but didn't press her, "That's quite alright, I will have some fresh dresses delivered here for you then"

"Thank you, Madame" Isabelle was grateful she didn't ask questions.

* * *

Destler. _Destler_. The girl's name was Isabelle Destler. Erik's blood was practically boiling, there was only one Destler family in Paris he knew about, and that family was _his_. _Had his parents adopted after they sold him? Perhaps they had another child?_ How dare this girl come to _his_ opera house! He knew that she had no way of knowing that she wasn't welcome here, but it didn't matter. Erik was going to make sure she found out just how unwelcome she was.

* * *

_Yay first chapter! How was it? Please review and let me know what you thought!_


	2. Lost

Isabelle stared in the long mirror admiring the beautiful pale green dress Madame Giry had generously given to her. She heard voices coming towards the dorm and quickly retreated away from the mirror. For now Isabelle was alone only because the other girls were at rehearsal, but soon the ballet dorms would be bustling. As if on cue, a mob of ballerinas came through the door, none of them really seeming to notice her.

A blonde girl looking around her age set some stuff down on the bed next to hers, in an attempt to make friends, Isabelle introduced herself, "Hi!"

The girl spun around and greeted her with a kind smile, "Hi! I'm Meg, you must be the new girl"

"Yeah, I'm Isabelle"

"Well Isabelle you're going to have so much fun here!"

"I hope so" Isabelle smiled.

"C'mon why don't I show you around a little bit" Meg insisted grabbing Isabelle's arm, but more of the dancers were starting to notice the new girl.

"Meg why are you taking her away so quickly? We didn't even get to say hello yet" one of the girls piped up.

"Isabelle, this is Julia" Meg told her, gesturing to the girl who had just spoken.

"Hi" Isabelle said meekly.

Julia looked at her like she was sizing her up, "I don't think you'd want to go out at this time of night anyway. Who knows what's lurking in those hallways?" A few of the other ballerinas squealed in fright, probably just adding dramatic effect to whatever Julia was getting at.

"Confused are you? Haven't you ever heard of the phantom of the opera?" Julia added with a sly grin.

Meg seized Isabelle's arm tugging her towards the door, "shut up Julia she doesn't need to hear about him"

"Are you sure? She doesn't need to hear about how he kidnaps ballerinas and keeps them prisoner in his lair? She should at least be warned" Julia added with false concern.

"That's not true, and if he did do that, I hope he kidnaps you next!" Meg hissed at Julia. A few of the other girls giggled.

"I think Christine would beg to differ" Julia added.

Meg was silent for a moment before lashing out at Julia, "that was too far"

Julia simply turned her back on the girls, ignoring Meg, "don't say I didn't warn you, Isabelle"

* * *

The next day Isabelle woke up eager for rehearsals.

"C'mon girls" Madame Giry came into the dorm clapping her hands, "rehearsal starts in 20 minutes, get to the dressing rooms!"

The ballerinas trickled a few at a time into the dressing room, an excited Isabelle being at the head of them. Everything about the opera house was breathtaking to her, every corner she turned there was a new fascination waiting for her. The lights, the music, the costumes, even the people! This place definitely lived up to Isabelle's expectations. Walking into the dressing room, Isabelle was pulled out of her reverie when she saw Julia.

Julia immediately noticed Isabelle, "I can see you survived the night"

Isabelle looked straight at Julia, "I can see you're still trying to scare me away" she snapped.

Julia was taken aback for a moment, as if people didn't usually stand up to her. Thankfully before she could retaliate Meg came bounding in, "Isabelle!"

"Hi Meg"

"My mom wanted me to give this to you, it's the costume for the show we're rehearsing" Meg handed me a colorful little dress.

"Thanks...wait who is your mother?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Oh she's the head ballet mistress, I assumed you've met her"

Isabelle nodded, Meg's mother was Madame Giry, maybe that was why Meg was being so friendly to her.

* * *

Erik had been watching the Destler girl almost every moment since she had arrived. Based on the exchange between her and Julia the previous night, Isabelle seemed to be the only one under this roof who had no idea who the phantom of the opera was. Even if she was new, this was a little odd to Erik considering almost all of Paris knew of him after the destruction he caused in his pursit for Christine. _His Christine_ who ended up running off with that idiot boy Raoul. To top it off, the girl was beginning to befriend the young Giry, which wasn't good for him. It meant that it would sooner come to Madame Giry's attention if Isabelle 'disappeared'.

The hatred Erik had for Isabelle burned brighter than a thousand suns. If his parents hadn't sold him to the gypsies, then maybe despite his face, _just maybe_ he could have had some nature of a good life. But _no-_ his parents condemned him to a fate much worse than that of just an ugly face, and Isabelle, _that girl,_ the child they could be proud of. Isabelle, who replaced him, and took from him all that he could have been. _Yes_. He would make her pay, he would make her sorry she was ever born.

* * *

"Again" Madame Giry demanded. The group of dancers obeyed and repeated the routine, Isabelle was absolutely exhausted. They had been working on the same routine for hours, and her feet were just about ready to fall off. She didn't dare complain though, she knew when she came here it was going to be hard work, and it was hard work she was willing to do. All Isabelle wanted was to be on stage, under the lights, dancing for everyone to see, and she was willing to do _anything_ to get there.

After rehearsals ended, Meg found Isabelle and hurried to dinner. Meg guided her to the table Isabelle assumed most of the ballerinas sat at, seeing as she recognized most of the girls there.

"How was the first day?" A snide voice asked. Isabelle whipped her head around to see Julia sitting only a few seats down. _Oh just perfect._

"Good" she answered simply, not wanting to get into it with Julia.

"Just good?" Julia asked, her voice like a snake slithering down Isabelle's back. Isabelle instinctively shuddered, and blocked out Julia.

"Ignoring me? C'mon Isabelle don't be rude" Julia chided.

Isabelle stood up from the table and glared at Julia, "I'm leaving" she said pointedly, exiting the mess hall without food.

Trying to keep her cool, Isabelle wandered the halls, looking for the dorms- nobody would be in them during dinner, so she could have some time to herself. Distracted by her angry thoughts, Isabelle paused and a pang of panic struck her. Isabelle realized she had absolutely no idea where she was going. She had only been here a day, and still didn't know her way around very well.

_Don't panic Isabelle, somebody's bound to be around who can help you,_ she tried to calm herself down. Running back down the hall she was in, desperately trying to retrace her steps, but all of the halls looked the same and there were so many twists and turns...

* * *

Erik almost laughed out loud, this girl had managed to get herself lost in his domain. Now was the perfect time to take her, no witnesses were around, and she had wandered into an abandoned part of the opera house.

"Lost?" He cooed from above.

Isabelle suddenly froze, looking up. Her eyes darted around the ceiling looking for the source of the voice. "Hello?" she called warily.

* * *

Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her back. Whirling around she ripped away from the touch, gasping at what she saw. A man towered over her dressed in all black, all except for a milky white mask covering half of his face. A cruel smile formed on his lips, and Isabelle knew she was in trouble.

"Surprised, dear?" He asked sarcastically.

Isabelle couldn't quite form words, she knew if she tried to speak she would just stutter, and she did just that. "A-are you the ph-phantom...?" she trailed off.

"The phantom of the opera? Precisely." He answered, enjoying the terrified look in her eyes.

"What do you want with me?" Isabelle whispered

"I want you to suffer" He hissed lunging towards her.

Isabelle eyes grew as wide as saucers before she leapt out of the way.

The phantom circled back towards her, she knew that if he wanted he could simply snatch her, _but no, he was playing with her, he was mocking her._ Isabelle did not appreciate it. Grabbing a piece of broken glass that happened to be on the floor near her feet, she stabbed him in the stomach.

It was clear from the look in his eyes that he had definitely not expected that to happen- but his look of surprise was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a look of pure fury, Isabelle didn't stay to see what would happen next. She gathered the hem of her dress and ran away as fast as she could. She once again had no idea where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get as far from the phantom as possible.

_Good going Isabelle, now the infamous phantom of the opera wants your head on a silver platter,_ she thought to herself bitterly. To be fair though, he _did_ already want that, as to why she didn't know, but he made it clear that he wanted her to suffer.

Isabelle had only been here for a day, but she already had heard enough to know that around here, _what the phantom wanted, the phantom got._

* * *

_Please review/fav/follow! It tells me people are enjoying the story and as a result I update faster!_


	3. He's here

_A big thank you to those of you who reviewed and/or alerted!_

* * *

Erik wanted to kick himself. He had her right there in his grasp. There couldn't have been a more perfect time to take her, but he underestimated her. Next time, he wouldn't let her know he was there. He wouldn't even talk to her, just take her and vanish.

* * *

Isabelle was laying in her bed, staring at the dark ceiling wide awake. All of the other girls in the dorm were asleep, but Isabelle was terrified of what could happen if she let herself sleep. _What did I do to deserve this_? Isabelle wondered. Maybe Julia was right, maybe he did just kidnap random ballerinas.

_I want to make you suffer_, his words played back over and over again in Isabelle's head. That look in his eyes could have made her dissolve right then and there. Tossing and turning, Isabelle contemplated what to do; leaving the opera house was not an option, not after she worked so hard to get here. She couldn't tell anyone, no one would believe her, not even Madame Giry. All that would accomplish was getting her possibly thrown in an asylum. So Isabelle's only option was to not wander off alone again, and watch her back. She didn't think the phantom would want to attack her with witnesses around, but then again, who knows what he's capable of.

The next day was a nightmare. Isabelle was a walking zombie, and her mind was on high alert in case of another ambush. As a result, she kept messing up the dance routine. Which Madame Giry wasn't happy about

"Isabelle what has gotten into you, yesterday you danced so well?" Madame Giry asked, her tone laced with dissapointment.

"I'm sorry Madame, I didn't really sleep last night"

Madame Giry just shook her head, "you're a professional now Isabelle, you have to start acting like one"

_Great_, Isabelle thought, _now to make things even worse Madame Giry thinks I'm not serious about dancing._

Isabelle wanted to leap with joy when rehearsal was finally over. Her dancing was no good today and she was done hearing Madame Giry lecture her, and the whispers of the other ballerinas mocking her.

* * *

As soon as she arrived in the mess hall, Meg bounced all over her. "Are you okay? Something seemed like it was bothering you today".

"I'm fine Meg, nothing happened" she lied in the lightest voice she could.

"Are you sure?" Julia asked from across the table. _Oh how perfect Julia's here, my day just keeps getting better and better._

"Yes I'm sure" Isabelle glared at Julia, waiting for her to try and challenge her. Instead she just smirked.

"Really? I mean I saw you get attacked by the phantom of the opera yesterday". The other girls at the table squealed at the mention of his name.

"Stop spreading lies, Julia" Meg snapped.

Julia's eyes met Isabelle's, clearly satisfied by her reaction. While Meg might have brushed off what she said, Isabelle's face was white as a sheet. _How had Julia seen that? Of all people why did it have to be Julia?_

"Oh it's true Meg, when she ran out last night I went after her. She was ambushed by the phantom but she stabbed him and got away" Julia said dramatically with a sick grin, _how could she be so cruel?_ Isabelle wondered.

The table fell silent and everyone gasped, "you killed the phantom of the opera?" One of the girls asked awestruck.

"No I didn't, Julia is just an attention seeking liar" Isabelle said with just a bit too much force. It wasn't technically a lie, yes she stabbed him but she didn't _kill_ him. Isabelle wanted nothing more than to run away again, escape the doubting stares of all the girls around her- but she couldn't do that, not unless she wanted to be attacked again.

* * *

Erik knew he would have to dispose of the Julia girl, she knew too much and clearly had no problem sharing that with the world. She was annoying anyway, always stirring up trouble with the other dancers.

He watched as Isabelle walked side by side with Meg Giry, every once in a while turning around to check behind her. Erik was frustrated, now that she knew he was coming for her, she never let herself be alone- and it had to be just his luck that the companion she decided to spend most of her time with was Meg, the one ballerina he couldn't merely dispose of if she got in the way.

* * *

"Don't worry about Julia, she just likes to stir up rumors" Meg assured her.

Isabelle nodded, but she knew that this time for once in her life, Julia unfortunately was not lying.

* * *

The next day was even worse than the previous. Most of the girls wouldn't talk to her, and whenever she walked by they would start whispering to each other. Everyone believed Julia, all except Meg, who was her only friend now.

"Did you hear about that new girl?" Isabelle heard a girl say from down the hall.

"Yes! I heard she killed the phantom of the opera"

Isabelle only shook her head, if the phantom really was dead, than she wouldn't have to tip toe around.

Isabelle speed walked to rehearsal, making sure to take the way where there were plenty of performers hanging out in the halls so she wouldn't be alone.

"You're late!" Madame Giry announced before Isabelle could barely take a step onto the stage. Isabelle mumbled an apology and jumped right into the routine. She was struggling to stay alert since she was even more tired than yesterday. Finding out Julia knew about her run-in with the phantom had done absolutely nothing to calm her already high strung nerves. So instead, Isabelle put all of her energy and focus into the dance, forgetting about how tired she was and all of the other problems that seemed to be drowning her lately. Closing her eyes, Isabelle let the music take her away like it always could.

Those few moments of escapism were suddenly cut short when Isabelle found herself face down on the ground.

"Oops!" A familiar bitchy voice said from behind her. Isabelle had just been getting into the dance before Julia noticed that she was _actually_ dancing well and felt the need to destroy it. Unwilling to give Julia the satisfaction of showing her anger, Isabelle simply stood up and began to dance again like nothing happened.

Seconds later, Isabelle was once again on the ground, she was ready to scream at Julia this time- but she felt a weight on her back. Glancing behind her, she noticed a prop had fallen on her. _A prop much too heavy for Julia to have pushed_.

"It's the phantom of the opera! He's not dead, he's here! He's after Isabelle!" One of the ballerinas yelled shrilly.

She couldn't help but wonder if he had pushed the prop on her. As if to confirm her suspicions, Isabelle could've sworn she heard a low masculine laugh from not far off.

After rehearsals Isabelle caught up with Meg, not wanting to walk alone. As they walked to dinner Isabelle paused gripping Meg's arm. "Can we eat somewhere else?" Isabelle asked sheepishly.

"Is this because of Julia?" Meg questioned, "Don't worry about her, nothing she says has any meaning. She is just jealous because your a better dancer than her"

Isabelle didn't want to fight with Meg, and she didn't want to hold her back from going to have dinner with her other friends so she just let it go. "Alright well I'm not even hungry anyway. You go along I'm just going to I back to the dorms"

Meg looked at her hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure, besides it's not like I'm going to get lost again" Isabelle assured her friend, forcing a smile. Meg nodded gratefully and turned to the mess hall. Isabelle spun around to sprint back to the dorms as fast as she could.

Breathing a sigh of relief, as she safely reached he dorm, she closed the door behind her and fell back against the wall.

Isabelle nearly screamed at what she saw.

* * *

_Thank you for reading, please review/alert!_


	4. Taken

_Okay so earlier stupid me accidentally deleted this story. Luckily I managed to recover it. But in the process it lost all of its followers/favoriters, so if you had followed/faved this story, as of now you are not. So to do that please do refollow or refav! Anyway, since I've had a lot of time on my hands lately, here is an early update.._

* * *

That girl had run right into his trap. She was plastered against the door of the dorm, frozen and wide-eyed. She thought she was safe in here, she thought she could escape him here, but what Isabelle failed to realize was that Erik was everywhere. There was nowhere in this building she could go to escape him.

"I haven't done anything wrong, I swear!" Isabelle gasped, still unmoving.

Erik ignored her desperate pleas and grabbed her, fastening a punjab lasso around her throat. He pulled on the rope tight enough so it wouldn't kill her, but would cut off her windpipe. Within seconds Isabelle had gone limp in his arms. Erik scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, uncaringly making his way back to his lair.

* * *

Erik awoke the next morning to a shuffling noise coming from his music room. He silently stepped into the room containing all of his instruments and music- the room he spent basically all of his time in. Also known as the perfect place to tie up his little prisoner. Erik had tied the rope around her neck, to the arm of one of the chairs mercilessly tight.

"Awake?" He asked, his voice cool and clipped.

Isabelle thrashed against the rope angrily "Why are you so hell bent on making me suffer?!" She cried.

Erik paused turning to her, "you are only getting what you deserve"

"What I deserve? What in the world did I ever do to make you think I deserved this!?"

Erik wondered if perhaps his parents hadn't told her about him, probably not- but it didn't really matter.

"Somebody has got to pay" he hissed.

"Pay for what!?" Isabelle demanded, "I've only been here three days and you've already managed to attack me twice, drop faulty scenery on me, and take me as your prisoner!"

A rush of anger boiled over Erik, he dashed to Isabelle leaning down so they were face level. He wrapped his hand around her throat once more.

"I should kill you, but that would be too good a fate" he snarled.

All he got from Isabelle was an array of choking noises as she clawed at his grip on her throat.

"To top it off, you stabbed me" Erik added tightening his grip on her throat, "I should be impressed, nobody here as ever done a thing like that before"

Isabelle was getting dizzy, she could see spots dancing in her vision. She couldn't breathe.

"Don't have such a big mouth now, do you?" Erik hissed with a sadastic smile before throwing her back to the ground as she gasped for air.

"Stay silent, and stay out of my way. If you do not comply I assure you will regret it"

* * *

_I don't know how he expects me to go anywhere anyway when I'm tied to a freaking chair. As for staying silent? I needed answers. _Isabelle decided.

As soon as she was out of his grasp she stood up, the rope sliding up the chair as she did so. "I deserve answers" she demanded.

The phantom froze as if he was not expecting her to be so bold.

"For starters, you can tell me why you hate me so much" Isabelle was trying to be as brave as she could, but her hands were shaking and her face had paled.

"What was not clear to you about 'stay silent"

"If you're going to keep me here I at least should know why"

To her surprise, the phantom did not strangle her again, "You are a Destler, are you not?"

"Yes..." Isabelle trailed off confused.

"That's all the reason I need" Erik hissed his usual cold demeanor returning.

"But why? What did the Destlers do to you?"

"You don't need to know that" he said darkly. The next thing Isabelle knew he was out of the room.

* * *

Hours of extreme boredom passed as Isabelle was forced to sit on the ground attached to a chair like an animal. She still had so many questions but she knew if she asked them they would go unanswered anyway. The phantom walked back into the room she was in and sat down in front of the organ, looking around Isabelle realized the room she was in was filled with instruments and sheet music.

"Can you please just answer some of my questions?" She asked trying to appeal to his compassionate side- which she wasn't sure there was one. As predicted, the phantom simply ignored her and continued to play. Isabelle had to admit the music he played was amazing, but she heard of his music already. Julia tried to scare her by telling her that the music he played was so sweet that it could lure people to his lair and force them to do his bidding. But somehow, looking at the phantom even in all all of his evilness towards Isabelle, she didn't see a man who would do what Julia had accused.

"I won't shut up until you answer my questions" Isabelle warned

The phantom paused his playing, "you're lucky I've kept you alive, but that will change if you don't well, how you put it- 'shut up'"

Isabelle wanted to bite back with another sarcastic comment, but she really did want some answers and angering him was not the way to do that. "Look, all I'm asking is you explain things a little to me, believe it or not I really would like to know why you hate me so unbelievably much"

"I've told you enough, now you will be quiet or I will silence you myself!"

"Is Julia right?" Isabelle nearly shouted in frustration, "do you really just kidnap random ballerinas!?"

"Julia is a fool" the phantom roared. Isabelle winced as he stood up, she didn't say another word for a good while.

Despite the fact that Isabelle couldn't get him to answer any of her questions, she still felt like she was getting somewhere because she spoke nearly every time he told her to be quiet, and he didn't well..kill her.

* * *

This girl was different than Erik expected, she didn't cower in fear, or obey anything he told her to do- and he didn't like it.

"Seeing as there is nowhere I can go anyway, can you please untie me"

"If I untie you will you shut your mouth"

"Yes" Isabelle promised

Erik stood up from the bench and untied the knot around Isabelle's neck, " I'm leaving" he announced, "I will be back in a few hours, in the meantime if you get into anything I'll tie you back up"

* * *

Before Isabelle could say anything he was rowing away on the lake, as soon as he was out of sight Isabelle did exactly what he told her not to. She rummaged through drawers and shelves trying to find something, _anything_ that could give her as to why she was here.

Isabelle was about to give up when she spotted something interesting, in one of the drawers of his desk there were stacks of pictures. Most of them were of a young woman who Isabelle assumed was Christine, others were of random inanimate objects around the room. But under those drawings was a series of more disturbing ones. The first one she saw was unmistakably a gypsy fair, the tents were etched perfectly, _this phantom really was talented_, but what caught her attention was the main focus of the drawing. In the center there was a tent larger than the rest with the words "The Devil's Child" scratched on it. The next drawing looked to be the inside of a tent, there was a cage surrounded by people, and in that cage was a little boy, and a larger man standing over him with a whip. Isabelle wondered if this was meant to be the inside view of the devil child tent.

The next drawing made Isabelle audibly gasp. It was an image of a man and a woman with an uncanny resemblance to her parents. _Well_, her _'caretakers',_ Isabelle refused to see them as her parents. She didn't know why or how the phantom had a picture of them, but it explained a little bit as to why she was here. Perhaps the phantom had some kind of relationship with them that didn't end so well, so he developed some kind of obsessive hatred that he was willing to take out on her. Isabelle felt herself growing angry, _how dare he make her suffer for an issue she had with those who raised her, she hated them too!_ She wanted to scream at him and demand he tell her what happened between him and her caretakers, but if the phantom knew she had directly disobeyed him again, Isabelle was afraid of how he might react.

A soft paddling noise was coming from the river, Isabelle looked over her shoulder and saw the phantom returning on his boat. Quickly she stuffed all of the drawings back into their drawer and ran back to the chair.

* * *

Erik walked back into his music room to see Isabelle sitting in the chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, just like when he left her. Somehow he knew untying her had not been a good idea, no doubt she had gone 'exploring' while he was gone.

"Where did you go?" Isabelle asked.

He had gone up to deliver a letter written by 'Isabelle' informing that an issue came up at home, and she would be gone for awhile- but she had to be crazy if she thought he was going to answer her.

"No answer? Right, to be expected" she muttered.

Erik turned his head ever so slightly to see Isabelle sitting there with her head resting on her knees, looking dissapointed and bored. For a moment he wondered what exactly he was going to do with her. He hadn't really thought his plan through, what was he going to do? How long was he going to keep her alive before he killed her? Erik knew she had the same questions.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Please review/alert, I promise this story will get more exciting (:_


	5. Memory

Isabelle had been in the phantom's lair for two weeks, during that time they had managed to ignore each other, their only contact was when he lost his temper and yelled at her, sometimes he hurt her. Isabelle still had nasty bruises on her neck from the countless times he had grabbed her. She had learned that the phantom usually left her alone when she sat silently and pretended she wasn't even there. When she tried to do anything like move or talk he would lash out at her.

Isabelle's hope was fading, not just her hope of escape, but sitting in silence for so long had been driving her absolutely insane. Everyday when the phantom left, she would get out of her chair and run around, yelling. She did this partly to let out all of her pent up energy, and partly to spite him and his _orders_. Currently, the phantom was distracted by the song he was playing on the organ, she noticed when he got into his music he didn't really notice the rest of the world. Isabelle took this as a chance to creep away, his lair was big, surely there was somewhere she could hide in this labryinth.

Isabelle only made it steps before the organ abruptly stopped. "Did I say you could get up?" the phantom asked sharply, sending chills down her spine.

_Did I forget to mention that you're an asshole?_ Isabelle thought bitterly to herself before retreating back to the chair without a word. One of the things that had gotten her in trouble when she was younger was her unconventional way of thinking, according to her caretakers she acted too much like a boy. She could still remember the endless scoldings she recieved from her mother and the school teachers at those finishing schools she had been sent to.

**-FLASHBACK-**

An eight year old Isabelle was out on the front lawn of her family's estate playing with a group of other little girls. The five of them were in cute little dresses sitting poised around a little table, imitating their mothers who were gathered at a larger table steps away. The other little girls were talking nonesense, to Isabelle it was all proper jibberish.

"Mommy! Can I go play with Jack?" Isabelle pleaded her mother. Jack and the other little boys were playing tag on the front lawn, a game much more appealing to Isabelle than sitting with her back straight, at a table with snobby girls who made fun of her. Her mother's cheeks blushed with embarassment as the other mothers looked at Isabelle like she was the scum of the Earth. Quickly Isabelle's mom rushed over to her and pulled her a bit away from the group of women.

"Isabelle, we've talked about this, you're a young lady and you will act like a young lady. Young ladies do not run around and get dirty playing tag with boys" Isabelle's mom scolded.

Isabelle pouted, "mommy the girls are boring I want to play tag!"

Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose shaking her head before looking at Isabelle sternly, "dammit Isabelle! How many finishing schools do you have to get kicked out of? How many times to you have to embarrass our family with your strange urges?! I raised you to be a proper young woman, and I expect nothing less! Now you will go back to the table with the other little girls, and for christ's sake just act normal!"

Isabelle's bottom lip puckered and she started to cry, "I'm sorry mommy, I'm trying, please don't be mad at me!"

Her mother took her daughters face in the palm of her hand, "Shhh Isabelle, don't cry, you don't want your eyes to be red and puffy now do you? This has got to stop. You're eight years old now, and people aren't going to be so forgiving of your out of place behavior as you get older. Don't you want to be accepted?"

Isabelle forced herself to stop crying, "Yes mommy" she said bowing her head before returning to the group of girls.

Isabelle couldn't help but overhear the other women at her mother's table,

"You've got to get her under control! She's a shame to your family, if my little Anne acted like your daughter I wouldn't ever let her go outside!"

Isabelle's mother sighed, "I am aware of that, we are doing everything we can to help her learn, if she doesn't learn soon then maybe we'll have no choice but to keep her hidden"

**-END OF FLASHBACK-**

Isabelle's eyes began to water as she thought about her past. Her 'mother' never realized how much her words hurt her. Isabelle always knew that her 'mother's' friends thought she was no better than a piece of rotten meat, Isabelle could never forget the way they looked down at her, or the merciless comments they

made. Even through it all, Isabelle wished her 'mother' would stand up for her, but she never did; she was more scared of Isabelle tarnishing the family name then she was for her _own daughter. _

Since she was eight, she had learned to control herself more, and act like a 'proper lady', all for the sake of her caretakers. Isabelle could never bear that look of dissapointment her 'mother' would give her every time she acted 'off' in public, or got kicked out of finishing school. It crushed her to the point where there was nothing left of Isabelle but the flat, hollow, obedient doll her mother had always wanted.

"Why are you crying?"

Isabelle's head shot up, suddenly remembering she was still with the phantom, and that he had seen her crying. She quickly blinked away the tears, "No reason" she stammered quickly.

* * *

Erik was playing a new melody that came to him the previous night, when the sound of soft sobs echoed through the room. Ceasing his playing he turned halfway around to see Isabelle with her head buried in her knees, her body rocking as she cried. She had sat there unmoving for so long that this almost surprised him, "Why are you crying?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Isabelle's head shot up suddenly, she quickly forced her crying to a stop, insisting it was nothing. Even as she stopped crying, her body was still trembling, Erik wondered if there was more to her than she was letting on. Perhaps she was just crying because she was trapped under the opera house with him, but something told Erik it was more than that. _Isabelle had secrets,_ he suddenly found himself wondering how his birth parents had treated her. He believed they were foul people for selling him, _their own child to Hell,_ but surely they would have been kind to Isabelle. His parents were shallow, and Isabelle was pretty young woman, and didn't seem to have any immediate conditions, so of course they were happy with her. She was everything shallow people could want in a child. _Isabelle is their spawn,_ he reminded himself, _she is the child your parents always wanted but could never have with you, of course they worshipped the very ground she walked on._

* * *

The phantom tossed a piece of bread at Isabelle, "dinner" he stated simply. Isabelle sighed looking down at the roll, she had refused to eat since he had taken her. She was convinced that he was trying to poison her- but it had been almost three weeks now and Isabelle was starving, sharp pangs of hunger were tormenting her. Looking at the bread longingly she knew exactly what the phantom was trying to do. He knew she refused to eat, but he gave her food anways knowing that eventually she would cave in, Isabelle feared this was the time she would cave in.

"You know if you don't eat soon, you'll die. Is that really the way you want to go?" the phantom asked.

"Why should you care, you're probably planning on killing me anyway. Why drag it out?" Isabelle shot back.

"Watch your mouth" he hissed.

Isabelle was growing frustrated, "Why!?" she screamed. "I've been here for three weeks if you're going to kill me for God's sake can't you just do it already?!"

The next thing she knew, the feeling of his hand once again wrapped around her throat returned, he lifted her a few inches off the ground. "Be careful what you say, _mademoiselle_, you never know who's listening" he growled.

Isabelle's eyes began to water, admitting to herself now she didn't really want him to kill her, what she really wanted was some goddamn answers- but held under the phantom's murderous glare...she didn't think she had much of a choice.

"L-let maegh g-go" Isabelle's voice was strangled, as she flailed her legs trying to kick him.

The phantom released her and she fell to the ground. "That's what I thought" he hissed lowly before swishing his cape behind him and taking off on his boat again.

As soon as the phantom was out of sight Isabelle fell to her knees and screamed as loud as she could, she wanted nothing more than to smash everything in the room and fly away from here. It had once been her life's dream to perform at the Opera Populaire, but since she's been here it's been more like a nightmare. She had waited her whole life to escape the prison of her home and come here, only to be captured and brought to another prison.

Isabelle felt like her life was in shambles, it was only when her 'parents' revealed to her that she was adopted did all of her pent up feelings rise to the surface. Isabelle was sick and tired of constantly wearing a mask in front of them- _in front of everyone!_ Family was supposed to be there to support you, but Isabelle's childhood was more of a Hell than she cared to admit. She had spent years trying to bury that version of herself that her parents were so ashamed of, she lived every day of her life just to please _them_. Isabelle despised the girl they made her, she also despised the girl she was. She hated being the freak of the room everywhere she went. But Isabelle also hated having to constantly hide herself. There had never been one person who accepted her. Even when she came to the opera, Julia made her feel like a freak.

Isabelle's whole body shook violently as she crumpled to the floor in the middle of the music room, sobbing uncontrollably. At this point, all Isabelle wanted was someone, _at least one person-_ who understood, someone who knew what it was like to have to hide _every single day of your life._

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed this chap, please review/alert!_


	6. Hell I'm Living

_Hello everyone! I just wanted to mention that this story is actually inspired by "Dancing Through Life" which is a really great fanfiction written by nibblesfan who is an amazing author. I recommend you all go check out her stories! Also, a thank you to those of you who reviewed/alerted. _

* * *

Isabelle's tears were still fresh on her cheeks as she made her way to the phantom's piano- something she had previously never dared touch. When Isabelle was little, she used to like to sing and play the piano, actually quite well for a child her age- but her 'mother' wanted her to take up dance instead, saying it was more of a 'ladylike art' so she forbade her singing and piano use. Honestly though, Isabelle had no problem with dancing, it was actually quite a passiom of hers, but she longed to make music again.

Placing her fingers on the keys, she played a few scales. Surprised she could still play so well, Isabelle relaxed into the music as she began to sing and play a melody,

_There was a time when men were kind _

_When their voices were soft _

_And their words inviting _

_There was a time when love was blind _

_And the world was a song_

_And the song was exciting _

_There was a time _

_Then it all went wrong... _

_I dreamed a dream in time gone by _

_When hope was high _

_And life worth living _

_I dreamed that love would never die _

_I dreamed that God would be forgiving _

_Then I was young and unafraid _

_So dreams were made and used and wasted _

_There was no ransom to be paid _

_No song unsung No wine untasted _

_But the tigers come at night_

_With their voices soft as thunder _

_As they tear your hope apart _

_And they turn your dream to shame..._

_But there are dreams that cannot be _

_And there are storms we cannot weather _

_I had a dream my life would be _

_So different from this hell I'm living! _

_So different now from what it seemed _

_Now life has killed The dream I dreamed..._

Isabelle closed her eyes at the end of the song, taking a deep breath trying to stop her tears, she had to get a hold of herself before the phantom returned.

* * *

As Erik traveled back to his lair, he could hear the sound of Isabelle's voice echoing down through the tunnels. _She was singing,_ he realized. He stopped walking and listened intently, Isabelle's voice was pure and strong, but untrained.

He listened to the lyrics, _"I had a dream..my life would be so different from this hell I'm leaving!"_

She sang with such emotion that it made Erik once again wonder what exactly she had been through.

As he stopped he realized something else- she was playing _his_ piano. All thoughts on Isabelle's singing disappeared from Erik's mind and were replaced by blind rage, he stormed into the music room and Isabelle leapt off the piano bench in surprise.

* * *

Isabelle didn't know how long the phantom had been listening to her, all she knew was right now he was standing before her looking absolutely enraged.

"I told you not to touch anything!" He roared.

"I'm sorry" even as Isabelle said those two words she knew it sounded lame, _really Isabelle, really? That's all you can say?_ She thought to herself.

The phantom took a few steps towards her, closing the gap in between them, "sorry doesn't cut it" he hissed lunging towards her.

Isabelle turned on her heel but he caught her by the waist. Isabelle squirmed and thrashed trying to pry his fingers off of her.

Isabelle whimpered as he dragged her further into the darkness. Throwing her in what looked to be a closet, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

She fell against the door, cringing at his voice. "If you even think about making another stupid mistake, then next time I might just forget to be nice" he snarled.

Isabelle sat still on the cold floor. Forgetting about her own pain for a moment she thought about his. _What had happened to this man to make him so cold and unfeeling?_ She wondered. When Isabelle looked in his eyes, she didn't see the cold sneer of a sadist, but instead she saw the deep pain and suffering of someone who had lived through hell. Something had happened to make him the way he is now. Something- maybe even _someone_ had taken this man, and sucked all of the man out. Leaving him as nothing but a cold, empty, shell.

* * *

_Yes I know this chap was a bit shorter than usual, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. The song Isabelle sang is 'I Dreamed a Dream' from Les Mis. Also, a big thank you to those of you reviewed and alerted! To the rest of you- please do review/alert!_


	7. Revelations

_Hello everyone, I noticed a particular review made by someone who doesn't have an account, but goes by the name 'fluffiness'...I would just like to say a few things to you. First off, I am very sorry if you are offended by Isabelle's reaction, it is never my intention to be offensive to anyone- but you should know that her reaction was not purely based on the fact that she was adopted. Later in the story, you will find out that Isabelle had a bit more of a darker childhood than I have let on so far. So, her reaction was more like all of of her pent up feelings finally being released. Secondly, you say Isabelle is a total Mary Sue? In my opinion all OCs come across as Mary Sues, unless they are intentionally described with bad characteristics- but, like I said, this is only the seventh chapter. There is a lot more to Isabelle that you don't know yet._

_With that being said, here is chapter seven..._

* * *

Erik tapped the keys on his piano, Isabelle hadn't broken the instrument- not that he thought she did. If he was being honest with himself, Isabelle had actually played quite well. It made some sense to Erik, if she was indeed the blood child of his parents, and not adopted, then perhaps she possessed the same musical gifts.

He wondered why he really didn't just kill her, what was stopping him? He had kept her down here for almost a month now, maybe it was time he just got rid of her. Word would make it back to his birth parents that their daughter was dead and they would be crushed.

Erik rose from the piano bench and crept towards the closet where Isabelle had been locked in for two days. He slammed open the door to see Isabelle curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor. As soon as she heard his arrival she shot up off the ground.

"Knock, much?" She questioned sarcastically. Erik watched as her eyes fell to the punjab lasso he was twirling in his left hand. The sneer died on her lips and Isabelle looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with fear.

Erik took a moment to enjoy that pleading look in her eyes as he cornered her. He found himself wishing his parents were here to watch him choke the life out of their precious little girl.

"Don't do this" she breathed. Erik ignored Isabelle, determined to make her suffer like he promised.

Isabelle, who had been cowering in the corner a second earlier marched right up to him. For a moment she looked like she was going to scream, but instead she composed herself, "tell me what my parents did to you"

Erik was taken aback by this, "How do you know...?" Isabelle worried her lip between her teeth, "the first time you left me here alone, I-I well went into one of your drawers...and there was a drawing of my parents. You say you hate the Destlers, enough to kidnap and murder their daughter. So I'm asking you to tell me what happened that made you hate them so much."

Erik took a sharp breath in, "You went through my drawers?"

Isabelle swallowed, not saying anything, the next thing Erik knew his hand connected with her face in a slap so hard she went flying backwards. "How dare you!" He screamed, coming at her again, but Isabelle put her arm up in front of her face, in an attempt to block him.

"Just tell me!" she screamed. "For christs sake no matter what the reason you hate them so much why in the world do you have to take it out on me? Do you think it will upset them? Do you think they will mourn? Well guess what! They won't!" Isabelle was breathing heavily, eyes blazing with defiance."Just answer me!" She screamed.

* * *

The phantom began to pace around her, in a manner that unsettled Isabelle. "If you must know, the Destlers were my mother and father"

_What?!_ Isabelle felt her jaw drop, of all the things that man could have said, that might have just been the last thing she expected.

"Surprised are you? I suspected they never told you" he spat.

"What did they do to make you hate them?" she stated firmly.

He took a deep breath, deciding to tell her, "when I was six years old, a gypsy fair came to town. They sold me to them"

Isabelle was frozen in shock, "why...how...?" she trailed off.

The phantom's stare hardened, "For years I was whipped! Beaten! Tortured!" he roared, "All because my parents sold my life away for a few measly francs!"

"Why would they sell you, and why would the gypsies want you?" Isabelle's mind was racing, she could barely form words but she had to. For the first time he was actually answering her questions.

The phantom yanked the rope in his hand, tight around Isabelle's neck, pulling her so there faces almost touched, "This is why!" he roared suddenly ripping off his mask.

Isabelle gasped. "Oh my" she breathed.

"You're the replacement! The child they always wanted but could never have with me, You are their pride and joy, you spoiled pompous _brat!_ You got all their love they would never give to me, _their own child, the monster!_"

"You know nothing!" Isabelle screamed, "I'm not even their real child, they adopted me!"

"It doesn't matter! They raised you, and you are just as shallow, and undeserving" He hissed.

"You don't know a thing about me! I am not shallow nor undeserving, and I am most definitely _not_ their pride and joy! My parents were absolutely ashamed of me! You think they'll cry if you kill me? You think it will hurt them? Sorry to break it to you but they'll be happy! Happy their messed up daughter is off of their hands for good!"

"Messed up? What problem could they have possibly had with you!?" Erik demanded.

"You think all problems are as easily seen as yours?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm. "I heard them! I was only eleven years old!" Isabelle began to cry.

"Heard what?"

Isabelle looked back up into his eyes, "My parents never let me forget how much of a disgrace I was, they cared more about how the public saw them, then they did about their own child. There was this one day, when I was eleven, I heard my parents talking when they thought I was asleep. By that point they were losing hope that my 'internal deformities' could ever be corrected". To make a long conversation, short, they were considering sending me away- and this time not to another finishing school. They were going to send me somewhere I couldn't shame them. Somewhere that I would _never_ be able to burden them again."

"Where?" He was using the most gentle tone he ever had with Isabelle.

"I don't really want to talk about it, maybe eventually but not now" Isabelle shook her head with tears in her eyes. To her surprise, the phantom did not press her, instead he removed the rope from her neck. A small gesture that spoke volumes to Isabelle. She looked up at him in confusion, not once until now did he ever show her one act of gentleness, kindness, or sympathy.

* * *

Erik was shocked, Isabelle wouldn't tell him where her parents wanted to send her, but he could see the pain in her eyes. A pain he knew all too well. Releasing Isabelle from the hold of his rope, he turned to leave her.

"Wait" she called out. He paused, his back still to her.

"I am sorry"

"For what?" He wondered.

"For everything. For everything you went through, I understand what you suffered through- to be rejected and dehumanized. I can only imagine what you endured"

Erik was taken off guard, but he quickly steeled his look, closing his eyes he took a few more steps towards the door.

"I don't need you pity" he whispered.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Please review/alert c:_


	8. Deal With the Devil

_A big thank you to my reviewers/readers!_

* * *

It all made sense to Isabelle, his parents, who happened to be her adoptive parents had ruined his life. Because of this, he kidnapped her hoping he could get revenge on them through her.

She wondered just how many years he had been caged by the gypsies, it made Isabelle angry to think about. She didn't exactly put it beneath them to do to the phantom what they did, considering what they almost did to her. _What they most likely would have done to her if she hadn't heard their conversation and changed for good._

She knew his face was not exactly the most pleasing thing, but she also knew he could not control it. How cruel it was that a child only six years old child had to suffer for something as superficial as appearance. Thinking about it, Isabelle realized he suffered every single day of his life because of that face.

The phantom thought she pitied him- but Isabelle didn't pity him, she connected with him, they had both faced the reject and the shaming of the same two parents. In both their cases, their parents were willing to sell their children because they were different- despite his facade of confidence, Isabelle could see the deprived, broken man behind the mask.

* * *

Erik was unable to focus on the song he was trying to write- all he could think about was Isabelle. He didn't feel the same utter disgust for her that he had felt before, quite frankly, he didn't know what to think of her.

He heard the pitter patter of soft footsteps approaching, he turned his head to see Isabelle emerge from the closet. She silently walked to the same chair he had forced her to sit in for so many weeks before he had moved her to the closet.

"Can you play something?" she asked quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Before Erik could think to say no, his fingers answered involuntarily playing a short chord. He turned back to the instrument and played one of the short pieces he had written for a new opera he was developing.

"Where did you learn to play so well?" she asked.

"I've lived under this opera house since I was just 12 years old" He answered simply.

"So six years you were with them" she said softly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. He knew she was talking about the gypsies.

"Yes" he stated, unwilling to have more on the subject, but she pressed on anyway.

"Is that what the picture of the devil's child tent was? Is that what they called you?"

Erik glared at her, she was pushing it now, "so you saw that too" his tone laced with annoyance.

"I'm sorry I went through your things- really, I am"

Erik was about to respond, but he was cut off but a grumbling noise. "Isabelle, when was the last time you ate something?" he demanded.

"That piece of bread two weeks ago" she said sheepishly.

"Come. You are going to eat something now" He ordered. Isabelle hesitantly followed him to his kitchen.

* * *

Guided by her empty stomach, Isabelle followed the phantom into what looked like some sort of kitchen.

"You cook?" she asked, suppressing a smile.

"Is that amusing?" he asked with a hint of a smirk.

"Somewhat"

Isabelle could barely handle the smells of fresh food wafting to where she was sitting at a table. When the phantom turned back around he was holding a plate of eggs and pastries. He set it down in front of Isabelle, and retreated back to his music room.

"Is this all for me?" Isabelle asked incredulously.

"You haven't eaten in two weeks, of course it's all for you" he answered as if it were blatantly obvious he cared for her well being. Since last night, something had changed between them. Aside from the fact that he _actually_ let her speak and roam around his lair somewhat freely now- they were also more open to each other.

* * *

Erik watched in the corner of his eye as Isabelle hungrily devoured all of the food he had put down in front of her. She was starting to trust him, just yesterday she wouldn't have even touched a crumb of bread he gave her.

"I'm going up to the opera house" Erik informed her, grabbing a fresh letter he had just composed for the new managers. Andre and Firmin had at last sold the place, he could only hope the new managers weren't as idiotic as the last.

Erik found himself standing dangerously close to Isabelle- and for the first time it wasn't because he wanted to strangle her. He noticed she was short- the top of her head only came up to his jaw.

"Can I come?" she asked hesitantly.

Erik was once again taken off guard, _she thought he would let her go to the surface where she could so easily escape?_

"No Isabelle, you will stay here"

"Please, I've been down here for a month! I promise I won't run away if you just let me come with you!" she pleaded.

Erik sighed, he knew if she tried to run away he could probably easily catch her. On the other hand, he really didn't want Isabelle to be there for what he was going to do today.

"Perhaps tomorrow" He said simply, turning his back on her.

"Can I at least use the piano" she asked almost immediately.

Erik paused, "fine, but just the piano"

* * *

As soon as the phantom docked the gondola on the other side of the river, Isabelle flew to the piano. She would have used it even if he had said no, but it put her mind at ease knowing if he happened to catch her he wouldn't, well you know, _kill her._

Her fingers glided across the keys almost naturally, she hummed a short tune to match the melody. Isabelle rummaged through the various pieces on the sheet music stand. She wondered if the phantom wrote all of these. There were so many of them, and they all looked original to Isabelle. All of the songs were untitled, so Isabelle picked one at random. As soon as she began to play, a voice called out from directly behind her.

"Did I say you could go through my music?" Isabelle's hands froze, _it had been five minutes, had he even left at all or was he spying on her?_

"You said I could use the piano, and the music was on the piano" Isabelle braced herself for his temper explosion, but it never came.

"How did you learn to play and sing? Surely my parents didn't teach you"

"No they didn't" she admitted, "I had the interest since I could talk. Your parents tried to stifle it, they thought I could have a better purpose"

"I'm not surprised, but such natural talent is almost unheard of."

A smile tugged at the corners of Isabelle's lips, "Monsieur, are you complimenting me?"

* * *

"I suppose I am." Erik was extremely impressed by her musical skills, but it was almost painful to him that such skills had been allowed to go untrained.

"If you had some training...then you could be very good, maybe even one of the best"

"Really?" Isabelle's eyes lit up. "You know I always wanted to come to this opera house, even when I was finally allowed by your parents to come, I never imagined I would ever sing and play. I figured all I would ever do was dance."

Erik couldn't help but notice she kept saying 'your parents', not 'my parents'.

"Maybe..I mean you could...or..." Isabelle didn't finish her thought, but Erik knew what she was trying to communicate.

"Teach you" he finished for her firmly.

Before she could nod he sat down at the edge of the piano bench and played a brief melody. "I can teach you, train your voice, and help you improve your piano skills, but only if you do something for me"

He could see the uncertainty on Isabelle's face as she questioned him, "...What?"

"I need you to deliver a message"

* * *

_Mwahaha cliffhanger! Please review/alert_


	9. A Taste of Freedom

"You want me to do _what?!_" Isabelle demanded.

The phantom began to pace, "this is almost a favor, you should enjoy it, you'll get to go to the surface"

"There is _no_ way I am going to be your little sidekick" Isabelle planted her hands on her hips.

The phantom looked at her like he was insulted, "I do not have any need for a _sidekick_, I am simply asking you to do this one thing"

"You want me to pretend to be the phantom of the opera during tomorrow night's performance!"

"You are not even _remotely_ the phantom of the opera" he said agitated, "all you need to do is switch the bottles. I do not particularly like the new prima donna, I've made that clear to the new managers but they don't seem to be getting the message"

"Wouldn't want to mess with you, would they?" Isabelle said sarcastically.

"Exactly" He said either not recognizing that she was being sarcastic, or not caring, "they are about to find out what happens when I am not obeyed."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, "So, I switch the prima donna's throat spray with your little _concoction_, and you'll give me music lessons?"

"Yes. Do we have a deal?"

"Just one more thing, why can't you do this yourself?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Because I have somethig more important to do, and don't think I won't be watching, if you try to run I will catch you, and you will be sorry" He stated, clearly unwilling to tell her where exactly he was going to be. "Also, just to be clear, I could force you to do this whether I give you lessons or not, but I'm feeling nice" he added.

"Of course" she mumbled, "who is this prima donna anyway?"

"Julia Le Blanc"

Isabelle grinned, "Julia? Why didn't you just lead with that"

* * *

Erik grasped Isabelle's arm as he guided her through the shadows of the opera house. They managed to slip by unnoticed by the bustling groups of people gathered for tonight's performance.

He handed her a bottle that was the exact replica of Julia's throat spray bottle. "Switch this bottle with Julia's, bring Julia's bottle back to me and do not get caught" Erik ordered.

Isabelle took the bottle from him swishing it back and forth, "What is it?"

"Just a little something that will temporarily ruin her voice"

"Only temporary?" Isabelle asked with a smirk, something told Erik she wasn't joking.

* * *

Isabelle took off in the opposite direction of the phantom, drifting to the prima donna dressing room. There, Julia stood in front of a long mirror, still with that cold look in her eyes.

Isabelle decided to have a little fun.

She was in the ceiling, directly above Julia who was humming to herself. Isabelle knocked six times, and Julia's head snapped up. "Hello?" she called frantically.

Isabelle clasped her hand over her own mouth to contain her laughter. A distraught Julia suddenly gathered her things and fled from the dressing room, Isabelle followed her until they reached the stage. She was now standing in the shadows behind a layer of curtains while Julia snapped at one of the poor ballerinas in the wing.

"Where is my throat spray? I go on in two minutes, somebody get my throat spray!" Julia demanded.

Isabelle's heart skipped a beat as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. Looking up she saw Julia's throat spray bottle sitting unattended on a table.

"You!" Julia pointed at a small girl Isabelle didn't recognize, "make yourself useful and get my throat spray!"

Isabelle took this as her final chance and ran out of her safe spot behind the curtain. Quickly without dropping the bottle, Isabelle switched them.

She watched from behind her spot in the curtain as the girl retrieved Julia's throat spray, _poor girl_ Isabelle thought, _she must be Julia's latest victim._

Isabelle wanted to jump out of the curtain and punch Julia in the face, but she knew that in just a few minutes Julia would get what she had coming all along, when her voice failed her in front of all of Paris.

Suddenly Isabelle saw Meg walk by, she almost leapt out of the curtain to embrace her friend before an arm slipped around her waist pulling her back.

"Don't even think about" he hissed. The phantom forced her away from the curtain and dragged her back through the shadows. To Isabelle's surprise, he did not take her back to his lair, but instead he took a right leading them up to the seating areas.

"Where are we going?" Isabelle questioned. The phantom did not answer her, instead she saw for herself when they approached box five. _The phantom's box._

"Why is it that you hate Julia so much?" Isabelle wondered.

"She is like Carlotta" he said simply.

"Who is Carlotta?"

"A prima donna here last year, now hush" He answered annoyed.

Isabelle stopped asking questions as the opera began, Julia was front in center on stage looking perfectly horrible as always.

"So when exactly will her throat spray take effect?" Isabelle asked impatiently.

He turned to glare at her, "Isabelle, would you kindly _shut up_."

* * *

During the short intermission, Erik left the box to go see if things were running according to plan backstage.

"Stay here" he told Isabelle firmly before leaving.

Erik knew she would most likely listen to him, Isabelle wasn't an idiot, she knew he would find her if she wandered off.

Venturing into the rafters above the stage, Erik observed the spectacle of performers running around and bumping into each other in a mad dash to change their costumes before intermission ended. He had to say, he was less than pleased at how chaotic things were. Erik was even less pleased that the new stagehand was away from his post _again_, and most likely harrassing the ballerinas.

* * *

Isabelle sat in box five, the view was the best in the house. She wanted to stay there forever, but Isabelle knew soon the phantom would return, the show would end, and she would be once again consumed by the darkness under the opera house. Isabelle contemplated running, but she knew it was useless, he would just capture her again, and he would definitely not be so forgiving.

"Mademoiselle, do you know where you sit?" A gruff voice asked from behind her.

Isabelle spun around to see one of the stagehands. "Excuse me?"

A devious grin formed on his face, "box five, you sit in box five, do you understand how dangerous that is?"

"Why, because of the phantom of the opera?" Isabelle guessed.

The man raised a greasy eyebrow at her, "it doesn't scare you that he could come here any minute and find you? It seems to me you are asking for trouble"

Isabelle shuddered at the way he said that, "I want no trouble monsieur"

In the blink of an eye the man grabbed her in a bear hug, "you should have thought of that before you asked for it so willingly" he purred in her ear.

Isabelle tried to twist away from his touch, but he forced a kiss on her lips.

Isabelle bit his lip as he kissed her, but the stagehand just laughed at her sad attempts to shake him off, throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her away from the opera box.

* * *

_Yet another wonderful cliffhanger! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review and/or alert_


	10. Forgotten Feelings

_Don't worry guys, this story is rated T, so I'll be keeping things well...T..._

* * *

The man placed his knee down on Isabelle's stomach so she couldn't escape as she thrashed under his weight.

"Get off of me" she hissed. He ignored her and pulled the bunches of her dress up.

Isabelle found herself wishing the phantom would come and save her, _ has my life really gotten this sad that I'm hoping my captor will to come save me from my other captor? _Isabelle thought to herself sadly.

The more Isabelle thought about it, the more she convinced herself the phantom wouldn't come for her. He had said he wanted her to suffer, and well- what better way to have her suffer than letting her relive one of her worst nightmares.

* * *

Erik was furious, Isabelle was not where he left her. He thought she knew better than to try and run. Intermission had ended, so the hallways were clear as Erik prowled for any sign of her. He figured she probably would have fled to a more populated area, where he couldn't catch her as easily; _or maybe she left the opera house_. Erik banished the thought, Isabelle would not leave the Opera Populaire.

He decided to check the dressing rooms, Isabelle might have gone to Madame Giry, but before he could, a scream pierced the silence. Erik followed the noise to an abandoned hallway

"Quiet, someone might hear you stupid girl!"

Erik knew immediately it was that stagehand who was always anywhere but his post, growing angry he realized he had probably snatched one of the ballerinas.

"Get off of me! Please!" a female voice cried, Erik froze, he knew that voice- it was no ballerina, he had taken _Isabelle_.

Running down the hallway he saw the fool trying to force himself onto Isabelle. She was cursing at him, but her face was white with terror, and her eyes red and puffy from tears. An overwhelming feeling of rage passed over him. Neither the stagehand nor Isabelle had noticed his presence yet, so he came up behind the man with noose in hand.

"Monsieur" he spat, his tone dripping with malice.

The stagehand spun around to see him standing there, "The phantom of the opera" he mused, "well I'll be damned."

"Surely you know what happened to the last stagehand who displeased me" Erik said darkly, his hands shaking with anger.

The stagehand brushed off what he said, "you've got everyone here wrapped around your goddamned finger, but you're really just nothin' but a coward who hides in the shadows"

Before the man could utter another idiotic word, Erik unleashed his fury, pulling his lasso as tight as he could over the man's head. The stagehand choked, trying to pry the rope off of his neck.

"You've harassed the girls here long enough, but you took it too far by touching _this_ girl" Erik growled.

The man's dead body fell to the ground with a satisfying thump.

He took in the sight of Isabelle on the floor, disheveled, and wet with sweat and tears. Erik had never seen her looking more vulnerable. She looked up at him with big watery eyes, both fearful and grateful. Without a second thought, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her silently back down to his lair without a word.

As soon as Erik docked the boat, he turned to help Isabelle out, but she leapt out and ran to the closet and locked the door. He wondered if something more had happened, beyond the stagehand.

* * *

As soon as the door was shut behind her, Isabelle broke down. She could still feel his rough touches all over her body, and his hands twisted in her hair. It brought her right back to that day when she was just 10 years old, a day she had tried so hard to forget about. All of those feelings she thought she had forgotten had been surfaced all at once.

"Isabelle?" the phantom knocked on the closet door.

She shut her eyes and hoped if she ignored him, he would go away. Eventually the knocking did stop and he let her be. Isabelle knew he was worried and confused, and what she was doing to him wasn't fair. He had saved her, he at least deserved a thank you, or some sort of explanation- but she couldn't bear to see him, or anyone right now.

* * *

Erik paced outside of Isabelle's door. He accepted that she was not going to open the door right now, and he wasn't going to force her after what she went through today.

_Since when do you care? _He asked himself. It was an honest question, when did he start caring about Isabelle's feelings, was it when she told him his parents rejected her too? Was it when she wasn't repulsed by his face? Or was it when she told him she understood his pain? No one had ever tried to connect with him before.

Erik sat slumped defeated over his sheet music at his desk, struggling to stay awake- but he was too tired to focus. Words were swimming on the pages, and melodies were fuzzy in his head.

He rested his eyes for just a minute, but within seconds his hands slipped off the keys, and sleep pulled him under.

* * *

_Sorry for the short chapter guys :( Also a thank you to those of you reviewed/alerted!_


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